A/N: Another of my crappy one shots! This one is supposed to be fluffy. But there's a but there. Which basically means I am not sure if it has enough fluffiness to it - whatever that means.

{Psssst. Anyone wanna beta for me? I sort of miss small words all the time. And I don't even notice. So, anyone?}

Disclaimer: Last time I checked my last name was not Kripke, so no I don't own them. That's sorta obvious you know otherwise we would see exactly how 'profound' their bond is! *wink wink*

Title: Shawty

"Dean, who is a shawty?"

Dean yawned as he stretched a bit on the squishy motel bed, which smelt like cheap laundry soap. He stole a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Its bright LCD display cheerily informed him that it was 3 in the morning. He groaned a bit, inwardly cursing how light his sleep was (and also inquisitive angels with no sense of time)! He then twisted his upper body so he was now looking at where the sound had originated. Castiel was sitting on the couch in his trademark stick-up-your-ass style. His body was partly illuminated by the colorful light coming from the TV. Dean could distinctly see the blue eyes on the angel fixated on the television like it was the most interesting thing in creation.

"Cas, go to sleep, damn it. It's 3 in the fucking morning! And turn that thing off for Christ's sake!"

"I am angel. I do not need any sleep, Dean. And why do you speak of His Son like that?"

Dean gave a long-suffering groan. But he didn't reply (because one question will lead to another and God knows how many more questions the angel will think of! And Dean treasured his sleep, thank-you-very-much.)and just screwed his eyes shut in a vain attempt at getting disturbing, nerdy, pesky, trench-coat loving angels to shut up and stop disturbing him so late at night, or early in the morning, whatever!

After a while, Dean opened one eye to peek at Castiel. As if on cue, Castiel turned his head to Dean in a creepily slow manner and fixed his eyes on Dean's. Dean promptly closed his eyes.

Even as he tried to cut off his senses from the real world and take a short picnic in the dream world (at least in those parts that weren't plagued by nightmares), he could feel the angels heavy gaze on his body. And that made him very, very, very uncomfortable. Strictly speaking, he really should be used to it by now since he was generally at the receiving end of them, but something about those blue-as-fuck eyes and its owner did not-strictly-innocent things to him. He tried to pull the sheets to cover his upper body from the angel's eyes but failed since the sheets were wrapped around him in a mess and wouldn't budge. He finally gave up, struggled out of the choke-hold of the fabric and stomped to the bathroom to avoid the angel.

He spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom trying to calm his mind –and body, not that he would accept it out loud- down. He even splashed some really really cold water on his face to somehow clear his mind of what he was definitely not thinking if anyone asked. Then he decided he had regained enough testicular fortitude to face the being that had saved him from Hell. Also he was entirely too sleepy to stand in the bathroom any longer.

As he escaped from the cold peace the bathroom provided, he was hit with the full force of sparkly innocent angel eyes (and FYI, Dean didn't even THINK about the angel's innocence and/or taking it.) again. Dean gave a small sigh and a small part of his brain that was not sleepy, not numb from all the freezing water on his body and not thinking about angels told him that the best way to get that gaze shift elsewhere was to answer the question.

"That's what you call your 'girl' - 'boy' I guess. Or someone close to you, who is shorter than you. Or something.."

Cue Cas-trademarked-confused-silence-with-complementary-head-tilting.

"My vessel is shorter than you. Does that mean I'm your 'shawty'?"

Dean groaned to cover up the blush he felt at thoise words.

"Yes! Now shut up."

Dean saw the angel turn his head back to the offending piece of technology in his peripheral vision. He immediately made up his mind.

"Oh no you don't!"

Dean crossed the distance between him and the angel in an astonishing speed(astonishing by human standards, that is), turned the TV off and grabbed the angel by the lapels of his trench coat. Then he half dragged, half carried the angel who didn't even have the grace to look dumbfounded to the sole bed in the motel and threw him down on it. He climbed on it himself and wrapped his arms around the supernatural being who was stiff like a fucking rod (Okay bad analogy!).

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"No more questions. I need to sleep and you are sleeping too. And you are not going to watch anymore TV", Dean mumbled sleepily as he shifted closer to the other man -angel, whatever- and put his face on the crook of the his (very stiff, still very warm) neck, wrapping his tanned arms around the slim waist. Castiel's body was surprisingly warm and he was actually pretty soft. As a plus, he also smelled nice. All the more reason to use him as a pillow. For that night and hopefully every other night to come.

And, as we say, the rest is history.

If the ending was a little abrupt, I apologize. I just ran out of ideas.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Remember, reviews are nice and appreciated!

~~Meg~~